


If Only For A Night

by cascountsdeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confused Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, dean knows he is bi, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascountsdeansfreckles/pseuds/cascountsdeansfreckles
Summary: Something's going bump in the night, so Dean and Cas stop on their way back to the bunker to work the case. However, the monster only appears to make the kill, and only attacks gay couples. Sam connects all of the couples to the same hotel, so Dean and Cas travel there to go undercover.While Cas doesn't know why his feelings for Dean are so different than his feelings for Sam, Dean knows exactly how he's feeling about Cas, he just doesn't want it to last. Could this case bring them together, or tear them apart?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> plz don't yell at me about my other unfinished stuff i love this story so much this is my favorite trope just bear with me. love you guys please leave a comment if i say something stupid or missed an edit etc. y'all know the drill. thanks for reading :)

Castiel smiles to himself, his eyes closed. With his hand out of the open passenger window of the Impala, gliding through the wind as smooth as glass, he can almost pretend that he’s flying again. It’s almost as though he never raised Dean Winchester from perdition, as though he never fell. But, the soft rock music coming in crackled bits and pieces reminds him that he has fallen. In fact, he does a lot of literal falling, lately.

Without the extra weight of his wings, Cas finds that he trips over himself if he tries running too fast without remembering he doesn’t have to accommodate for the appendages.

He tips his head back, relishing in the moment that the road takes a curve and the wind pushes into the car, ruffling his hair and drying his lips. He loses himself in the make believe, in the false freedom, until Dean’s phone rings loudly. Cas opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings for a moment. He feels the age worn but well cared for leather beneath him and feels where his arm presses against the edge of the window. His legs don’t have enough space to stretch out all the way, so they are bent. He feels cramped. Confined. 

“Dammit,” Dean mutters, glancing over his shoulder at his duffel bag where the melody is coming from. “Cas, would you-“ he breaks off, jerking the car back to the middle of the lane when he feels the tires go into the dirt on the shoulder of the highway. Cas blinks, still coming back down to earth, before nodding and reaching back to rifle through the bag.

As he searches, growing more and more tired of the default jingling of random instruments, he realizes how far they have come, the two of them. Just a short time ago—but years ago is no short time for Dean, he supposes—Dean would’ve crashed the car before allowing Castiel to go digging in his bag.

After pushing aside John’s old journal and a questionable looking package of condoms, Cas finds the phone and swipes at the screen.

“Sam,” he greets the younger Winchester simply, his voice rougher than usual from disuse in the past couple of hours in the car. That’s his favorite part of driving with Dean. Besides the occasional request-roll down the window, turn up the radio-they both fall into a comfortable silence. He enjoys it almost more than he enjoys their talks, just being in the presence of his friend, where he feels no pressure to fit in as a human or stand out as an angel. He can just be Cas.

“Hey, Cas. Where are you guys?” Sam sounds distracted, as though he’s only half interested in the answer. Somewhere on Sam’s side of the line, he turns the pages of a book. Castiel frowns, realizing that he has no clue.

“Where are we?” he asks Dean, putting Sam on speaker phone and holding the phone between them.

“Heya, Sammy. We’re forty miles outside of Denver. You got somethin’ for us?” Cas only half listens as Sam reads the case file, instead he surveys Dean.

The area they’re in, whatever is forty miles outside of Denver, is densely wooded. The trees shade them from the sun except for tiny slivers of light that flicker as they go. They light up Dean’s eyes, making the green brighter than it usually is in the dull, artificial light of the bunker. Dean chuckles softly at something Sam says just as the sun peeks through the branches, and for a second, he’s glowing. 

Cas feels something tighten in his chest and he looks away. He looks down at his hands, once again resisting the urge to talk to Dean about the feeling. He would, it’s not that he doesn’t feel comfortable speaking to Dean about things like this. He asks questions often, and he always gets an amused or exasperated, but always patient, answer. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

He tried, once, to hint at the fact that the feelings he has for Dean are separate and different from those he has for Sam or Charlie. He had described to both brothers that the bond he felt with Dean, well, it was far more...profound. But neither of them had said anything about it, and Castiel had pushed the matter to the back of his mind.

Now, though, he can’t escape it. He’s stuck. Confined. The whole week it’s just been them, every time they head towards home Sam calls with a new hunt. They sleep in the same room. They eat the same food. They take turns driving, to Dean’s chagrin. Cas even finds himself tapping his foot to the same music that makes Dean tilt his head back and sing.

“Cas!” He snaps back into focus, looking up from his hands to see Dean staring at him. Sam is still on the line. “Sam asked if you’ve ever seen anything like this.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, dazed. Busted. “Uh-I don't...I wasn’t-”

“He’s still waking up from his nap,” Dean informs Sam, looking at Cas closely before turning back to the road. If he didn’t know better, Cas would’ve said there was concern in his eyes. “Give him the Cliffnotes, Sammy.”

Sam blows out a sharp, amused breath.

“Alright. You with me, Cas?” Castiel nods in response, forgetting that Sam can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he manages after shaking his head, trying to focus. Dean looks at him again, eyebrows raised. He avoids his gaze.

“Basically, there’s something about thirty miles west of you guys that’s going bump in the night, but only for certain people. None of the victims died in the same place or in the same way, but they’re all fishy. Some of them died in car accidents, others got real sick and passed unexpectedly. But they’re all couples, and they’re all staying at the same hotel in the weeks before they die. Besides that, the only connection I can see is that they’re all gay couples. You got anything for me?”

Cas frowns as he listens, shaking his head when Sam finishes.

“I am sorry, Sam. Nothing. What kind of creature would target their prey based on sexual orientation?” He’s mostly talking to himself, trying to pull something from his memory, but both brothers mutter their confusion as well.

“We can’t rule out the God Squad,” Dean suggests, looking at Cas warily.

“Angels are-”

“-indifferent to sexual orientation,” Dean finishes for him, having heard the line a thousand times. Cas nods. “But that doesn’t mean that one of your pals didn’t fall and get caught up in scripture. Some of the stuff they’re preaching at some churches-”

“-is not the word of the Lord!” Cas insists, and Dean makes a noise in the back of his throat, throwing a hand up.

“I’m not saying it is!”

“Jesus. Would you two shut up for two seconds?” Sam snaps. Cas crosses his arms and sits back in his seat. Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t know how you don’t kill each either when you’re on the road alone. Anyways, I haven’t told you the good part. Well, good for me. I got wind of the case from another hunter. He can’t pin the thing down. Hasn’t even gotten close. The only way to get near it is…” Cas frowns as he breaks off. He looks at Dean, whose eyes are widening slowly.

“No, Sam,” he grunts, shaking his head adamantly.

“It’s the only way, Dean. He’s the third hunter to not even see this thing. He said that’s the only thing none of them have tried,” Sam sounds very amused, but Castiel is still confused.

“Dean, I don’t understand.” Cas is embarrassed, like he always is when he doesn’t catch on to human subtleties until they’re explained to him, but Dean tells Sam that they’re going to call him back and hangs up the phone.

“This thing only shows up when gay couples go to the hotel. So unless we luck out and happen to show up at the same time as one of them, we have to...be the targets.” Dean’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel as he explains.

“But we’re not-”

“I know,” Dean interrupts, and Cas has to fight the urge to glare at him for his rudeness. “I know. Remember when I told you that people lie all the time? That’s all this is. Just a lie that involves some acting. Instead of pretending to be my FBI agent partner, you’re pretending to be my boyfriend. It’s all good. No big deal.” The agitated twitch in his jaw and the tension in his voice as he speaks contrasts Dean’s message of nonchalance, but Castiel doesn’t push him.

“Okay,” he agrees simply, trusting Dean to make the right decision.

“Okay,” Dean repeats, offering him a strained smile. “Let’s call Sammy back and get the address of the hotel, shall we?”

Cas nods, turning away to look out the open window. Pretending to be Dean’s boyfriend could be problematic in the long run of Castiel trying to figure out his feelings for the hunter, but he can’t let his emotions get in the way of a hunt. 

By the time they pull into the parking lot of the hotel, they have a whole story worked out. Dean Singer and Castiel Novak met in college, were friends for a year, and then began to date. They’ve been dating for three years now, and they’re going on a road trip together.

“Remember,” Dean says as he pulls their bags from the trunk. “We’ve got to be noticeable, we don’t know how this thing works yet.”

Cas nods, watching as Dean slings both bags over his shoulder. That feeling is back, tugging at his heart when he realizes that this isn’t part of the lie. Dean, for months now, has taken to carrying two bags so Castiel doesn’t have to carry his own.

“Maybe we should-uh-hold hands. Right off the bat it’ll be clear that we are involved.” His heart is pounding as he makes the suggestion, watching Dean closely for signs of an explosion. He’s always been a bit too aggressively macho, enough to make them all wonder, and he gets defensive, but he just clenches his jaw, looking at Cas with an unreadable expression before nodding.

Cas hesitates before offering his hand, making an effort not to break into a sweat when Dean takes it. They walk into the hotel, hand in hand, and Cas can’t help but notice that it doesn’t feel wrong. It’s foreign, and Dean’s palms are calloused and rough, but it’s not wrong.

“Hi,” Dean greets the woman at the front desk warmly. “We called ahead a little bit ago. Last name is Singer?”

The employee smiles at them, her gaze only hovering over their linked hands for a second.

“Of course. You requested a one bed room, correct?” Her smile doesn’t waver as she looks from them to her computer. Dean nods and tightens his hold on Castiel’s hand. “Alrighty, will you be needing a bell cart today?” She hands Dean the keycard as she shakes his head.

“I’ve got it covered. Thanks. When is breakfast?” Cas rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to look around the lobby. 

There’s a door behind the desk with a slot for a keycard next to it. To his left, there’s a large carpeted area where there is a couch and a coffee table.

“...and of course room service will be available. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Dean says. “Thank you very much. Come on, babe.” Cas balks, his face reddening as he turns it into a fake cough and follows Dean towards the elevators. When the doors slide to a close, Dean grins widely at him, dropping his hand. “Nice touch, huh?”

“Very humorous, Dean,” Cas mutters flatly, shooting him a look. “What happened to ‘this isn’t happening’ and ‘no Sam.’” Cas drops his voice to imitate Dean even though his is already lower. Dean chuckles, shifting the bag on his shoulder.

“Once you held my hand so tight that I thought you were going to break it, I figured I might as well have some fun with it. You should’ve seen your face.” Dean laughs again, shaking his head and running his tongue under his teeth. “Never seen you that red, Cas.”

“Can we just get started on this hunt?” Cas mutters, crossing his arms and glaring at the doors to avoid looking at Dean.

“Sorry, man. Like Sammy said, we’re the bait. We have to wait for the hunt to come to us. Until then, we just got to be as cute and gay in public as possible,” Dean explains, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Cas watches him sourly as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I say we eat at the hotel bar after we each take a quick shower?”

“Fine,” Cas says, his arms still crossed. “Do we really have one bed?” When they used to go out on their own, it didn’t matter. Cas would sit on an old rickety chair and watch cartoons while Dean got his four hours. Now, though, Cas needs to sleep. They both need beds. They’ll both need to use the same bed.

“Had to sell it, Cas. No one woulda believed we were together if we got two beds. It’s fine. I can take the floor.” Dean shifts the bags again as the elevator doors open and he leads the way towards the room. He glances over his shoulder again. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Nothing. Do you need help with the bags?”

Anyone else in the world would think the interaction is unusual. The two men, bickering and rolling their eyes as they go, still bump shoulders and argue about who can help who. Cas insists on taking his bag, Dean waves him off and opens the door for him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Five minutes before I bust in there, feathers,” Dean tells Cas as he watches him disappear into the bathroom. He hears a few choice, unholy words from the angel and he chuckles. He falls onto the bed, raising his hand to stare at it. Just minutes ago, Castiel was gripping it.

Dean’s always known, in the back of his mind, that men make him feel the same way women do. He’s pushed it away, ignored it, tried his best to make up for it. But, he’s always known. There’s no point in denying it. The one thing he’s never been sure of is what he would do if the one, the big one, ended up being a dude. That’s why, when Cas busted into that barn in 2009, he got pissed. When Cas gets too close, he gets pissed. Because there’s no denying it, when he thinks about them and their story, that Cas is the one.

So, at first Dean was hesitant to go through with it. His whole persona, his overly aggressive straight mindset, it’s all blowing up in the face of this hunt. But then he had realized that this is his chance. He gets to be with Cas, for as long as the hunt takes, and he gets to be more him than he has ever been. Sue him if he’s a little too happy about it, but he’s actually excited to feel this out.

He’s thinking that maybe, just maybe, Cas isn’t the one. He’s just a long, blown out crush that Dean has been romanticizing all these years because their story has the potential to be great. God, he hopes so.

When the shower stops and Castiel steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist, Dean jumps up and brushes by him without saying anything. If there is one thing he won’t do, it’s let Castiel know that he’s basically on a free relationship trial run.

By the time Dean is out of the shower as well, he’s gone over the time limit they set for themselves and Castiel is grumpy. As though he really cares.

“I’m hungry,” he grumbles, and Dean gives him a fake pout. “Can we just go? I need some energy if I have to deal with you for the next couple of days without a break.” Dean smiles at him, pulling the door opening and gesturing for him to lead the way. Cas gives him a look, but pulls on his trenchcoat and stalks out.

“Someone is hangry,” Dean teases, reaching around Cas to press the down button. If the angel is annoyed by the action, he doesn’t show it. Instead he stares ahead stoically, not even glancing in his direction. When they reach the lobby, Cas offers his hand up with a sigh. “You don’t have to act like it’s such a pain to be with me, you know.” Dean’s genuinely a little hurt, but he grabs his hand anyway.

“It’s not,” Castiel admits. “I just--I just have enough trouble comprehending emotion without all of the fake.” Before Dean can unpack that whole thing, Cas is pulling him towards the small bar.

“What can I get you boys?” The bartender is pretty, to say the least, with curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. She sweeps her eyes over them, lingering on Dean’s face for long enough that he can’t help but smile. For a moment, Dean leans forward, ready to flirt his way into another one night stand, but Cas coughs lightly and sets a hand on his back.

“A beer for me. My boyfriend will have a captain diet tall, please,” Castiel’s hand remains on his back and the look in his eye is unfriendly enough that the girl’s head loses it’s curious tilt and she looks away from Dean.

“Alrighty. Sorry,” she adds under her breath, smiling at Cas. “I didn’t know he was spoken for.” Dean watches as Castiel returns her smile, the usual warmth returning to his eyes. Suddenly, he’s struck by how similar they look. The dark hair, the bright eyes, the head tilt, even the small turn on each of their lips before they break into a smile.

“Apology accepted. I understand, he’s quite the catch. I’m sorry if I seemed rude, we just get this everywhere we go and I am a bit tired.” Dean raises his eyebrows, surprised at just how easily Castiel has slipped into character. Especially for someone who was just complaining about lying in the first place. “We were hoping to get dinner here, is the kitchen still open?”

“No, hunny, I’m sorry. Kitchen closed at seven. I know a couple places close by, though. What’re you looking for?” She sets their drinks down in front of them, leaning on the counter and smiling at them. “Somethin’ romantic?” She giggles, looking between them.

“Romantic, yeah,” Dean says, smiling back at her. “We could use some romance, babe.”

“Absolutely,” Castiel agrees, though he noticeably flinches when Dean touches his leg affectionately. The bartender, whose nametag reads Haddy, notices the reaction as well. But, luckily for them, she smiles knowingly and pats the counter.

“You know, I think it’s horrible that you have to be nervous about showing affection in public. I mean, my neighbor and his mistress make out in the hallway of our building and that’s no problem. For what it’s worth, a lot of people are on your side.” Haddy looks between them again, and shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hate how high you had to jump just then...when your boyfriend touched you. I want you to feel safe here.”

“Haddy,” a sharp voice from behind the bar makes them all jump. “It’s eight, didn’t you say you had to run?” The woman who replaces her wears a nametag that reads ‘Beth’ and a frown. Haddy nods at her, mutters a goodbye, and then disappears.

“Hi there,” Dean greets her, smiling warmly. She’s middle-aged, brown hair with white roots beginning to show and smile lines that don’t seem to have been used lately. Dean nudges Cas as she looks between them coldly.

“Hello. One check or two?” She turns her back on them, typing something into the cash register. Dean raises his eyebrows and gives Cas a look.

“One,” they answer at the same time. She gives them a bored glance, and then nods.

“Bar’s closing.” She tosses the check down in front of Cas and begins to wipe down the counter. Dean glares at her, then the check, and then Cas, who is chuckling at Dean’s angry look.

“Shut up,” he mutters, pulling the check towards him and writing their room number on the line. He grabs Castiel’s hand, and gets Beth’s attention under the guise of saying thank you. She gives them a dry smile and goes back to her task. “Let’s go.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That,” Castiel mutters under his breath, “was not a very nice woman.” Dean chuckles and slides the key into the door.

“Suspecto numero uno,” Dean agrees, grabbing the remote and turning the TV onto a random news station. “Alright, I’ll take the floor. Can I get a blanket or somethin’?”

“Dean,” Castiel objects. “I don’t want you to sleep on the floor. No offence, but you’re not as young as you used to be. That will make your back hurt for weeks.”

Dean glances at him, his eyebrows raised. Cas sighs, crossing his arms. What he’s saying is true, and Dean can’t deny that. Yesterday, he stood up too fast and got a kink in his neck. Castiel will be sleeping on the floor before him. As though he can read his mind, Dean shakes his head.

“No way, Cas. You’re not sleeping on the friggin’ floor. My body may be old but it’s a hell of a lot more used to sleeping on floors than yours,” Dean argues. Cas huffs, but when he opens his mouth to object he realizes that he doesn’t have anything else to say. Dean is right. Jimmy’s body, battered and ten years older now than when he first took over it, hasn’t been human again until now. It isn’t used to all of the extra pressure. 

“You aren’t sleeping on the floor,” is all Cas says before looking the bed over. “Dean, it is a large bed. We can just keep to our own sides.”

“Jesus Christ, fine. Fine. But if I wake up and your up in my grill, Castiel, I swear--” Dean breaks off, wagging his finger at him, accusatory and threatening. As threatening as he can be when dealing with Cas. “I’ll shoot.”

“I highly doubt that,” Castiel fires back, grabbing his pajama pants and brushing by Dean to get to the bathroom. When he pushes the door shut, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the wood. God, this is getting complicated.

He throws on a t shirt, though he usually goes to bed shirtless, for the sake of Deans comfort. They climb into the bed silently, Cas laying on his back and Dean turned away from him. There’s plenty of white sheet between them, enough for them to pretend this isn’t happening. When Cas falls asleep, he’s praying to any of his brothers and sisters that he doesn’t roll over in his sleep.

When he wakes up, still on his back, he thinks that someone heard him and granted him his prayers. While he may be right about that, Dean wasn’t so lucky. On one side of the bed is the window, where the moonlight is still the only source of light, and on the other is Dean, so close to him that his breath tickles Castiel’s neck.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, almost afraid to wake him. There will be a wave of defensiveness, Dean will close himself off, and most definitely sleep on the floor until the case is over. “Hey, Dean.”

“Mmph,” is the only response he gets. Dean does open on groggy eye and takes in just how close he is to Cas. Cas braces himself, waiting for Dean to throw one of them off of the bed and begin to freak out, but he doesn’t. “Mornin’ Cas.”

“Hi,” Cas responds shortly. “Dean, what’s happening? Isn’t this… personal space?” He’s scared, for lack of a better word. Dean would probably say spooked, as though Cas is a wild animal, a horse stuck in the barn on the fourth of July.

“Yeah, buddy. This… this is method acting. Always playing the part, even when the camera’s not on. It helps big actors get into character, that’s all,” Dean explains. Cas tries not to notice that he can feel the air from Dean’s lips as he speaks.

“Method acting?” His heart is going a thousand miles per hour. This seems like it’s crossing a line. One of their hundreds of unspoken lines. Each built up over the years and most of them crossed every once in a while, but this one has never even been approached. He’s anxious, probably sweating visibly, and excited at the same time. This is new territory. He can do a lot of discovering here, but he could also ruin everything. Dean, despite all of his tough talk and his sleep addled brain, spooks a lot easier than Cas. He could start running and never come back. Cas thinks that could kill him.

“Yeah. Method acting.”

“So,” Cas swallows, but finds the courage to turn on his side and look at Dean. “That… that makes this alright?” He rests his head back on the pillow, right next to Deans. So close that when Dean nods hesitantly, the very tip his lips brush against Castiels.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, so quiet that Cas wonders if he imagined it. “This is alright.”

“Okay,” Cas whispers back. He’s not sure why they’re talking so quietly, as though a loud enough word will break this bubble that they’re in. “Okay.” He closes his eyes and falls asleep to the sound of Dean’s breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise. Someone storms out. Why can’t they just say what they mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the fastest i’ve ever uploaded a second chapter please appreciate me and give me validation. also the formatting of the dashes is fucked up with a capital  
fucked so i apologize. that’s what happens when i switch from mobile to my computer and back again eight times a day

“Cas, wake up.” Cas jerks awake, sitting up and blinking. Dean is standing at the foot of the bed, holding two cups of coffee. “We gotta show up for breakfast. I want to get noticed so we can gank this son of a bitch and go home.”

Cas takes the coffee, muttering a thanks and rubbing his face. He’ll never get used to waking up. It’s always fuzzy and disconcerting. Not that everything is bad; it softens the edges of everything. Everything, it seems, except for Dean, who looks tense.

“How long do I have to get ready?” he asks, his voice rough. Dean shrugs, glancing at the clock.

“Ten minutes. I’ll meet you down there.” With that, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him. Cas frowns, wondering if last night was a dream. Dean seems so different now than then, when he had looked at Cas in the dark and smiled a secret smile. He takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces, shaking his head. It’s black, no cream or sugar, which Dean knows he hates.

“This is so confusing,” he says to himself, forcing his legs out from over the covers and rolling out his shoulders.

He can’t lie, he was excited when Dean suggested they go on a hunt alone before Sam called , just the two of them. It’s rare that they can get a moment alone in the bunker anymore, and Cas misses their time together more than he’d like to admit. If he had known it would get this confusing, he would’ve asked that they go back after just one hunt. 

When he gets downstairs, Dean is sitting at a table set for two. There’s another coffee cup there, and there seems to be a new Dean. He smiles at Castiel as he approaches and waves. Cas manages a weak smile, falling into the chair and looking at Dean apprehensively.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean greets him. Cas is taken aback, until he remembers that this is acting. The Dean who touches his arm and leans into him isn’t real. 

“Aw, look at you two.” Haddy appears next to Dean, a small package of cream in her hand. “Your boyfriend said you’d want this,” she tells Cas, setting the cream in front of him and giving him a wink.

“I forgot this morning, sorry.” Dean sounds genuinely apologetic, and he sighs when Haddy walks away. “I’m also sorry… about last night. I probably freaked you out. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Dean,” Castiel leans forward, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Method acting, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, looking away from him. Cas sighs, shaking his head and looking away as well. These walls, walls that he usually sees Dean drop down when it’s just them, are slowly rising between them. It’s profoundly frustrating.

“What’s the plan for today? Visiting crime scenes? Research--” Cas breaks off as Haddy returns with two menus. “Thank you...Haddy. Like the country?” He pronounces it as Hati. 

“Haddy, like I have had to explain this to everyone I’ve ever met,” she corrects him, smiling. “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“She’s sweet.” Cas looks up in surprise, watching Dean watch her. That feeling from last night, when he had touched Dean’s back and leaned into him, is back. Jealousy. Real jealousy. He would think that it’s a result of the method acting, of the constant lying, but he’s felt it for a long time. Nights when Dean would leave him to go home alone while he left with the prettiest face in the bar.

“Yeah,” he agrees hesitantly, eyes on his coffee. “But you can't flirt with her, Dean-”

“Jesus, Cas. I’m not a whore. I know I can’t take her home, I’m just sayin’ she’s sweet. Anyways, I was thinking research for today.” Dean looks up from his menu, gazing right at him, and Castiel stares harder at his coffee. “What the hells the matter?”

“Nothing,” Cas lies, lifting his eyes for a second to meet Deans before dropping them again.

“Sure. Well, when you get your boxers untwisted, you let me know and we can talk about whatever’s stuck up your ass.” Dean shakes his head as he talks, and Castiel glares at him for longer now, crossing his arms.

“That is what’s wrong with me, Dean. I never know which version of you I’m going to see next. Last night, we fell asleep breathing the same air, this morning you ‘forgot’ how I take my coffee and couldn’t look me in the eye, and now you’re just being an asshole.” Dean sits back as he listens to Castiel’s rant, his eyebrows raised. When he’s finished, Cas uncrosses his arms to throw them out, silently saying ‘so, there.’

For a horrible moment, Cas studies Dean's features and thinks he is going to explode. To yell at Cas, or throw something, or call the whole thing off. 

————————————

Dean wants to yell. He wants to throw something. He wants to bail on the whole thing and go home. But there’s an evil son of a bitch out there, and it’s his job to send it straight to hell. Not only that, but his best friend is angry and confused and scared. Because of him.

“Okay,” he says softly. His heart aches when Cas looks surprised. He was ready for Dean to continue being a dick. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Cas. I’ve been all over the place.”

Cas is looking at him, blue eyes so open and earnest, in a way that makes his stomach twist. Sometimes he forgets that Castiel looks to him for a lot more than they let on. They’ve spent countless nights in the Deancave, the TV playing quietly as Cas asks Dean about being human. About food, emotions, movies, sports, and music. Music is their favorite to talk about.

When Dean had made that mixtape, he was almost afraid to give it to him. Would he read far enough into it to understand? But, he hadn’t. Life went on. Dean kept drinking and bringing home pretty ladies. Cas kept hiding in his room until they were gone.

He feels guilty now, their past conversations ringing in his head. ‘I’m not exactly a role model,’ he had said. Cas looked at him in that sad, curious way he always does when Dean talks badly of himself. ‘That’s not true.’

Dean shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have brought up method acting. All he’s doing is playing with Castiel’s emotions. It isn’t fair. He’s taking advantage of-

“Dean,” Cas interrupts his chain of thought, and grabs his hand. “I know that you don’t do it on purpose. I do.”

Dean is not emotionally equipped for this. Out of all the things he expected from this hunt, having Castiel hold his hand, look into his eyes, and say ‘I do’ was not on the agenda.

“I understand that your past traumas have caused you to be…emotionally stunted in some ways.” Castiel, despite his harsh words, smiles at Dean reassuring and squeezes his hand.

“Right,” Dean mutters, pulling away from him. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You are welcome,” he replies, ripe with sincerity. “Besides, the acting, I think it’s helping me. I’m starting to understand.” Dean looks at him, trying to fight down the hope that’s building in his chest.

“To understand what?” He does his best to keep his voice from shaking under Castiel’s steady gaze.

“My feelings-”

“Did we decide what we want?” Hardy interrupts, smiling brightly. Dean just about slams his hand on the table, but Cas has turned his attention to her.

“We’ll just take the buffet,” he decides for the both of them. Dean stares at the table, waiting for her to leave. Instead, she hovers.

“Listen,” she says under her breath, her pen still raised as though she’s writing on her notepad. “I’m having a little party, tomorrow. It’s at my house, and I’d really like it if you guys could stop by.” Then, she really does jot something down and place it on the table. “It’s going to be low key, just us and a couple of my friends” She drops a wink and leaves to help another table.

“Hm,” Cas hums, grabbing the note and looking at Dean. “A low key party off site. For two men she barely knows.”

“Come on,” Dean objects, “Haddy? She doesn’t exactly seem opposed to our relationship. Maybe she just wants another try at me.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Cas does not look amused.

“Obviously she wouldn’t be open about it. She has to draw us in.” Cas leans forward, but Dean still doesn’t buy it. She’s young, and she’s engaging just as much with everyone else as she is with them. Nothing about her seems dangerous. “Think about it. She could be a shifter, or a demon, or literally half of the monsters out there. A lot of them look like cute young women. Just because you can’t stop thinking with your downstairs brain…” He shakes his head. Dean almost spits out his coffee.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” Dean splutters, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“TV,” Cas responds, drawing himself up defensively. “Why?”

“No reason,” Dean mutters, still chuckling at how foreign that sounded coming out of the angels mouth. “I just really don’t think it’s worth our time to follow that lead. At least until we have more proof than just you being jealous.” He raises his eyebrows as Cas stiffens. It had been a joke, but Castiel’s blue eyes had flashed and he had sat up straighter in his chair.

“I don’t buy her act,” he says gruffly, standing up and storming towards the buffet.

“Castiel!” Dean calls after him, throwing his hands up. Cas doesn’t slow down until he reaches the plates, grabbing one and staring at the food with such intensity that Dean thinks he’s trying to set it on fire. When he catches up to him, he rests a hand on his back. Cas moves to shrug him off, twisting his back violently, but Dean hisses “acting” under his breath and gestures quickly at the grumpy worker from last night. She’s restocking the scrambled eggs, mumbling under her breath. 

Cas huffs, but allows Dean to touch his back lightly, guiding him through the line and saying something softly into his ear every once in a while. When they get back to the table, Cas tosses his plate down roughly and begins attacking the eggs with his fork.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, not even touching his own plate. “I was teasing, come on, buddy. We’ll go to the party. We can look into Haddy, alright?” Cas shoves the eggs into his mouth, but then closes his eyes and chews slowly. Dean sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. When Cas opens his eyes, he nods.

“Alright,” he agrees, smiling around a mouthful of eggs. Dean huffs, finally digging into his own plate. Cas might just have him wrapped around his finger, without Dean even realizing it. “I just have a feeling. Something about her isn’t sitting right with me.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re a whole hunter now. Hunches and everything.” Dean can’t help but smile. Cas has come so far from when they first met. When he had crashed into that barn and Dean had stabbed him. Then, he was a mindless soldier. He did what he was told told without question or thought. Not one to let emotions get in the way, ever. Now, he finds a way to defy anyone and everyone on a daily basis, and he is, in Dean’s opinion, over emotional. 

Dean knows that it’s been hard for him, losing his grace and his wings along with that, but he can’t help but feel like it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to his friend. He finally gets to be Cas, not Castiel the general, or Castiel the screw up, just Cas. Dean can see how happy it makes him. Sure, there’s been some setbacks. He’s a little worried about Cas at the moment, but overall, he’s done amazing. Considering the whole picture. 

“Listen, Cas,” Dean says, his smile sheepish when cas looks at him openly. “I know we haven’t talked about it in a while, but you know that we’re proud of you, right? Me and Sammy?”

\-------------------------------

Cas loses his breath at the look on Dean’s face when he speaks. That crooked half smile, his tongue just barely poking out between his teeth. It just gets worse when Dean says he’s proud of him. What’s there to be proud of? He’s stumbling his way through humanity, tripping up and pulling others down with him as he goes.

“I’m not doing anything that’s worth being proud of, Dean,” he admits, looking down at his plate.

“Oh, come on, Cas. You know that’s bull. You’re doing a better job at being human than most humans do. Nobody is perfect, and you’re dealing with extra shit on top of it. I’m serious, dude, you should be proud of yourself. You are one of the best people I’ve ever known. With your stupid moral compass and your hunches and your never ending attempts to do the right thing,” Dean stops, a blush creeping up from the back of his neck. Cas observes him closely, and he can see the thoughts in real time as they go through Dean’s head. He has said too much, gotten a little too real. He is the one who initiated and lead the chick flick moment they just had. Castiel feels as though he is glowing under Dean’s praise. As undeserving as he feels of it, it’s so sincere and came tumbling from Dean’s mouth so unexpectedly that he can’t help the thickness in his throat as he swallows.

“Thank you, Dean,” he responds simply, a small smile on his face. Dean nods, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. “We were talking about research, earlier. What did you have in mind?” Castiel relieves him from the moment, turning the conversation to the gig and away from Dean’s feelings.

Dean looks grateful as he pulls out his phone and shows Cas the small pile of books and websites Sam has found for them to comb over. Cas nods along, only listening enough to know which books he’s supposed to find.

The rest of the time, he watches Dean. He’s the one who should be proud, Cas decides. With everything that life has thrown at him, Dean has still managed to remain kind and thoughtful. He’s smart, loyal and selfless to a fault, and he’s patient. Despite the persona he puts on in front of everyone else, even his little brother, Dean is gentle. Dean has a soul that shines so brightly, all Cas had to do was follow the glow through hell to find him there. So bright that Castiel was afraid the anti-tracking brand he had put there wouldn’t work. But, thankfully, it did.

“Here’s your check, boys.” For the millionth time since they arrived, Haddy’s sudden appearance makes Cas jump. Dean raises his eyebrows at him, probably about to say something sarcastic, but then she sets the check down in front of Cas, and Dean throws up his hands. “What?” Haddy asks curiously, her brow furrowing. Cas smiles widely, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, Dean. What?” he teases, barely able to keep the joy in his stomach from turning into a full on belly laugh. As he watches Dean’s face go through the various stages of grief before he has to admit to a pretty girl why this bothers him, Cas realizes that the only time he ever feels this way is with Dean. Even Charlie has never had him bent over in laughter the way Dean does so easily.

“It’s--oh, God--this is so stupid. Castiel, I hate you.” Dean’s laughing too, now, green eyes bright. Haddy, however, has taken a step back, her eyes wide. Cas feels his smile wavering as she stares at him, something flashing behind her eyes. His blood goes cold. She recognizes his name. And clearly does not like the memory that comes with it. Dean hasn’t noticed, as he has his hand on his forehead and is staring at his plate, trying to regain his composure. When Cas looks back up at her, she’s smiling curiously again, still a half step farther away from them than before, but looking normal again.

“Dean,” Cas says, both trying to convey his seriousness to Dean and trying to keep it from Haddy. Dean looks up at him, still smiling, but with one look at Castiel’s face, he is suddenly composed. His smile drops off of his face, his eyes questioning. “We should go. We have that thing--”

“Right,” Dean agrees immediately, thankfully going along with it without hesitation. He pulls the check towards him and jots down the room number and a tip. “Thanks, hun,” he says to Haddy before holding his hand out to Cas. “Come on, babe.” Cas allows himself to be pulled up and towards the elevator. They leave behind a surprised looking Haddy.

They don’t talk until they reach the room. Cas double bolts the door and turns to look at Dean, who has his arms out in a ‘what the hell’ kind of way.

“It’s her, Dean. I’m positive. And I think I know what she is, but that’s more of a guess than a sure thing.” Cas takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. It’s one of the few traits that he picked up from Sam and not Dean. 

“Care to share with the class?” Dean asks eventually, still supremely confused.

“When you said my name she almost… panicked,” Cas explains, shaking his head, trying to shake the thoughts loose and put them together. “She stepped back from the table and her eyes, they--I don’t know. But she knew my name, and she didn’t like it.”

“Why would she know your name, Cas? And why would she just now recognize it? I’ve been saying it since we got here--”

“Cas.”

“What?” Dean snaps, pausing where he has been pacing back and forth.

“You’ve been calling me Cas since we got here. You don’t usually call me Castiel unless you’re upset with me.” Cas looks down, hating the thought of how many times he’s heard his full name said with a sigh, and how very few of them aren’t immediately following a ‘damnit.’ “So, she didn’t know I was Castiel until you said it at breakfast.”

Dean looks down too, and Cas can see all those times running through his mind as well. It has gotten to the point that half the time, hearing his full name worries him. Makes him wonder what he did wrong this time. If he can ever fix it.

“Right,” Dean mutters. “I still don’t know, Cas. Are you sure? Are you in a good place to be making the call? I mean, when Sam was talking on the way here and then this morning when I was talking about the lore… you just seem off. Like you’re not all the way here.”

Cas frowns, taking in the hesitance in the way Dean is talking.

“What?” he asks, his heart thudding against his chest. It’s a different kind of anxiety. Dean sighs, cursing under his breath and walking to the minifridge, grabbing two beers. Cas shakes his head, waving him away, breathing hard. “Dean?”

“I talked to Sam,” Dean explains. “We both have been… worried. Lately, I mean, like since you lost your grace, you’ve been different. Sam thought that if I got you away from everyone else for a while, maybe you would talk to me about what’s been going on…” Dean pauses to take a drink, and Cas feels the pit in his stomach grow. That’s why Dean invited him on the hunt. Because Sam thought Cas would tell him that something was wrong. Not because he wanted to spend time with him.

“I see,” Cas says, sitting in the arm chair by their bed. “I think I will take that beer, actually.”

Dean looks at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes, before turning away to get him a drink. Cas closes his eyes, shaking his head softly. He’s so stupid. He should’ve known that Dean didn’t just want to spend time with him. Their relationship doesn’t work like that.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong or that I don’t trust you, Cas, I’m not. It’s just--I don’t want to rush into attacking some poor girl based off of a feeling or a half second of a facial expression that you thought you saw. Especially when--well, how have you been sleeping?” Dean asks, resting the bottle against his leg. Cas scoffs, rubbing his hand over his face.

“I’ve been sleeping just fine. You know that, you slept next to me last night,” Cas says, breaking off to take a large gulp of his drink. “You really think I imagined that? Just because I spaced off a couple times? Do you really have that little faith in me, Dean?”

“That’s not fair. You know that’s not what this is--”

“Isn’t it, though?” Cas keeps his voice even, meeting Dean’s gaze and holding it. Daring him to look away. To lie. “You’ve always kept an extra eye on me, just waiting for me to mess up again. Don’t deny it. You and Sam both, I can tell. I’ve always been able to tell. I just thought that I deserved it. But I’m right about this, Dean, I am. You can’t just brush this aside because you don’t agree. I’m good at this too.” Cas glares at him, the hurt turning into anger. “Just because I don’t have my grace… I’m not useless.” Cas slams the bottle onto the bedside table and storms out the door. He doesn’t have a destination in mind, all he knows is that the sound of Dean calling his name isn’t going to hold him back.

\-------————————————————

Dean gets to the door right as it slams shut. He pulls it open, and steps into the hallway.

“Castiel,” he calls, but all he sees is a corner of a tan trench coat whipping around the corner towards the elevator. “Damn it,” he whispers, turning back to the room and grabbing his jacket, checking to make sure the key is inside. By the time he gets to the elevator, Cas has already gone down. He is long gone as Dean reaches the lobby.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys!! Thanks for hanging with me, I've hit a bit of a slow period. I'm getting stuck right now with Cas and all of his feelings, but I think I'm almost there. I'll be updating soon, I promise!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holy shit this is so late. i’m so sorry lmaooo. anyways shit goes down like always

Cas is going to find the prettiest girl in the first bar he sees. He’s going to take her back to the hotel. The logistics of the situation don’t even come close to slowing him down. So what if they’re on a case where him and Dean being in a relationship is the most important part? So what if they’re sharing a bed? Dean can sit in the lobby until Cas is done. Cas has had to do it before, sitting in the car and waiting for the shadow of a woman to creep out of the motel room before he can go in and turn on his cartoons. It’s ridiculous, really, the amount of time he’s spent in that car at night.

He’s starting to realize why Dean is so affectionate towards it. The nickname--Baby--has even slipped out of Castiel’s mouth before on a rough night or two.

“Hey, Baby,” he would say roughly, “looks like it’s going to be another long night.” Shockingly, the car wouldn’t respond.

Now, he’s turning a corner and coming up on a neon sign. Finally. This will be his first attempt at picking up a woman without Dean at his elbow, being his wingman, as he called it. He shoves the door open, shaking his head as though he can physically rid himself of thoughts of the hunter.

When he gets to the bar, there’s already a girl with light brown hair sitting at the counter. He grins as he approaches her, ignoring the nerves in his stomach and taking the empty seat next to her.

“Hi,” he flirts, trying his best to recreate the move he’s seen Dean do thousands of times. The girl looks at him, unimpressed. “May I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, honey,” she drawls, the southern accent thick. Cas turns to the bartender, who is watching them with badly concealed amusement.

“Replenish her drink, please. On me.” He smiles again, and the bartender nods once before turning her back to him.

The lady avoids Castiel’s gaze until her drink comes, when she gives him a sly smile and slips from her seat.

“Thank ya much,” she says, disappearing into the sea of people. Cas watches her go before turning to the bartender and scoffing, rubbing his face. 

“Yeah,” she says sympathetically. “I could’ve warned ya.”

“Yeah? Why didn’t you?” Cas accepts the drink she passes him without questioning it. He didn’t order one, but what the hell?

“It’s fun to watch sometimes,” she admits. Cas huffs a laugh, swallowing his drink and biting his lip. Damn. 

“Captain and coke?” he guesses, shaking his head already. Why the fuck can’t he get him out of his head?

“Yeah,” she says, looking surprised. “I didn’t think it would be your usual type of drink, from the looks of you. I just thought you seemed like you could use something strong.” 

“Huh, well, don’t be too impressed. It’s my-uh-it’s a friend of mines go to drink,” he explains, trying to ignore the buzzing of his phone as it rings with a call. When it stops momentarily and then begins again, Cas pulls it out of his pocket to check if it’s Sam or Jack. No, he can’t be that lucky. Dean’s name is scrolling across his screen, underneath a picture of him; he’s flipping off the camera, so his hand takes most of the focus, but in the back Dean is laughing and his eyes are bright.

Cas hits the decline button and sets the phone, screen down, on the bar. He finishes the rest of the drink in one go. The entire time, he can feel the bartenders eyes on him. 

“Wow. Okay. I’m Vicki. You are?” She grabs his glass and goes to refill it as he rubs his face.

“Castiel.”

“And what’s her name?” Vicki asks as she turns around, setting the full glass in front of him and leaning on her elbows.

“What?” Cas is distracted to say the least, his phone won’t stop buzzing. As much as he wants to ignore Dean, he could be in trouble. He can’t ignore the fact that they’re on a hunt. He reaches for it, intent on answering and telling him that if he’s not dying, he better screw off. But, the call ends. 

“Your ‘friend’ who drinks cap and coke, the one who is the reason you’re sitting here trying to pick up random chicks. What’s her name?” It begins again. If he were in trouble, he wouldn’t be able to make this many calls. He’s fine. Vicki glances between Cas and the phone as she waits patiently for him to answer. Cas is starting to feel overwhelmed.

The incessant vibrating of his phone, mixed with attempting to make polite conversation and ignore the loud bass from the music of the bar, is too much stimulation. He closes his eyes. He has to get out. Find somewhere quiet. Talk to Dean.

The buzzing stops. Cas breathes out through his nose. When he opens his eyes, there’s a water in front of him instead of his drink. He quirks an eyebrow at Vicki, a nonverbal he learned from Dean, who smiles softly.

“You need it. Trust me. So, Castiel, what’s her name?” Vicki has deep brown eyes, Cas notes, that put him at ease as she looks at him steadily. Cas can’t help but laugh bitterly as he picks up his phone to check how many times Dean tried to call. He scrolls through the texts and missed calls for a moment before pausing and looking up at her.

“Dean.” Cas smiles when Vicki doesn’t miss a beat, just nods sympathetically. “He’s an asshole. But, he’s worried about me. I sort of...I walked out.” He’s distracted again, one of the notifications catching his eye. A voicemail, which he swears Dean hasn’t used since 2011. “One second,” he tells Vicki, who nods and makes herself busy behind the bar. He raises the phone to his ear, a pit growing in his stomach.

“Hey, Cas. Since you’re on a grocery run, just wanted to let you know that we don’t need salt. Anyways, I think I’m going to hit the city tonight, so don’t be alarmed if I’m not around when you get back tonight. This sure is one funky town. All right. I’ve got to go, babe. I love you. See you later.”

Cas turns the phone off and shoves it in his pocket shakily. Fuck. //Fuck.// Funky town is one of the first things Dean ever taught him. It means that someone is listening, and that someone has a gun on him.

“Check, please,” is all Cas can manage when he gets Vicki’s attention.

“Listen, Castiel, I know you said he’s worried about you, but you can’t go running back to him this quick if he’s treating you bad.” She’s looking at him earnestly as she hands him the check. He looks it over quickly and drops enough cash for a twenty percent tip.

“He doesn’t. I stormed out today when he tried to talk to me. I’m the asshole. I have to go.” He turns away from the bar and stands, but something incredibly, sickeningly human in him makes him turn around, shaking all over from the nerves. “He loves me.”

She sighs, smiling at him hesitantly.

“Go get him.” Cas nods, turning and shoving his way towards the door quickly.

————————  
Dean rolls his neck, testing the strength of the ropes that tie his arms behind the pole. There’s no give. He grunts as he works his hands up instead of out, searching for a catch in the metal to cut away at the restraints.

“Would you give it up? You’re not getting out.” His attacker moves into his view, twirling her weapon in her hand. An angel blade.

“Why are you doing this, Haddy?” Dean glares at her. Of course, the one time he questions Castiel, he’s one hundred percent correct.

“Because my brother will come for you. Did you think I was stupid enough to have you call him just so he wouldn’t worry about you not coming home? Don’t you think I know that you found a way to tell him you’re in trouble? The salt thing, that wasn’t very subtle.” She tsks, shaking her head and dropping into a squat next to him. “He’s human now, at least, that’s the rumor. Is it true?”

He spits at her. She stands up, snarling down at him.

“Are you kidding me? I am an angel, you ass!” She slaps him, backhanded, and her ring cuts his cheek. He grimaces for a moment, letting the sting die down before smiling up at her lazily.

“You know, you’re not the first angel to say that to me.” She scowls, pacing back and forth in front of him. 

“Castiel is no angel. Even if the rumors aren’t true. He’s killed many of our brothers and sisters without hesitation. He cast us out of heaven. Even if he hadn’t turned into a homosexual, I would be happy to slit his throat.” Haddy squats next to him again, this time bringing the blade to rest so it’s sharpest point is against Dean’s throat. “Don’t spit on me, please. You won’t like how it ends.”

“You stupid bitch,” Dean growls, doing his best not to flinch away from the cold tip. “We aren’t together. I’m a hunter. He’s hunting with me. We lied.” He glares up at her, the words stinging as they leave his mouth. They aren’t together. They lied.

“Are you really that emotionally stunted?” Haddy sounds amused now, but the constant pressure of the blade against Dean’s throat doesn’t waver.

“The hell—do you guys have a specific vocabulary that all angels like to use over and over-“ Dean stops short as the blade finally leaves his neck, only for Haddy to back hand him once again. He lets his head hang for a moment, closing his eyes and tasting the metallic blood that mixes with his saliva.

“Castiel is no angel,” she repeats. That’s enough to give him another boost of defiant energy. He looks up at her and smiles, lips pulling apart, baring his red stained teeth like a mad dog.

“Fuck you.” She shakes her head.

“Let me finish. Are you so emotionally stunted that you couldn’t see it?” She sounds amused now, and Dean’s stomach churns with anxiety. What does she know that he doesn’t?

“See what?” It’s a mistake to show weakness, to let her know that she has the upperhand, but he can’t help it. She smiles at him, her young face twisting unattractively.

“Oh, Dean.” She laughs, a light, bubbly noise that doesn’t at all match the moment. “Dean, Dean, Dean. Castiel is in love with you.” She throws her head back, laughing harder when Dean feels himself go pale.

“He’s not,” Dean chokes out. He hates himself for it. Hates the painful pounding in his chest as he can’t help but remember all of the times he allowed himself to wonder, but convinced himself he was projecting. “He’s not like that.”

“This is so much better than I could’ve imagined.” Haddy drags the knife across Dean’s throat lazily, only pressing hard enough to draw blood when she reaches the side of it. Dean groans, throwing his head back, accidentally baring more skin for her to prick. “I get to kill Castiel and Dean Winchester, and I got to see that reaction from you. Is it my birthday?”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Dean growls. It wasn’t until he felt the thick blood rolling down the side of his neck that he realized he was still in danger. Haddy steps away from him, muttering under her breath as her cell phone rings. He goes back to searching for a nail or break in the pole he is tied to. There’s nothing, not even rust.

Castiel, he thinks, screwing his eyes shut to focus on the prayer. Castiel, breaker breaker. It’s Dean. I know you’re upset with me. I don’t know if you got my call, but I’m in trouble. You were right, it’s Haddy. She’s got me tied up somewhere. I don’t know where I am. You should be able to track my phone. He opens one eye, peeking at Haddy. She’s pacing back and forth, talking animatedly into the phone. He still has time. Closing it again, he breathes deeply. Hey, buddy. If you can hear me, if you’re still listening, there’s something I’ve got to get off my chest. In case you don’t make it in time. Castiel, I--

“Hadriel.” Dean gasps, wrenching his eyes open to see Castiel standing in the doorway he didn’t know was there. He blinks against the light that floods in behind Cas, and for a moment he thinks the angel has returned with full grace. Then, the door slams shut and the darkness returns, and Dean realizes it must be daytime.

Haddy--Hadriel turns around to look at Cas, smiling and hanging up the phone.

“Castiel. How nice of you to join us.”


End file.
